


Repairs

by Not_You



Series: one only understands the things that one tames [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Commitment, M/M, Morning Cuddles, adults using their words, discussion of self harm and/or suicide, yes clint he is going to keep you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:31:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after the night before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repairs

Phil holds Clint all night, an arm and a leg wrapped over him. Clint is still cuddled in against Phil’s chest when Phil wakes up, and he smiles softly down at him before remembering last night and feeling a cold hand of worry grab his heart. He checks Clint’s minor injuries again, glad to see them healing well but sorry to see them at all. He sighs and strokes Clint’s hair, wondering if he should see about dissolving their contract in the interests of Clint’s safety. Of course, Clint would take it as a rejection and probably get even more self-destructive, so that’s really not a viable solution anyway. Pondering the situation, he wonders what happened to the wreck. Clint is still sleeping like Phil drugged him, and only mumbles when Phil shifts away enough to find his phone. Once he has it, he settles back down with Clint, who mumbles again in a happier tone and clings to him. Phil chuckles, and pets Clint with one hand as he calls around and locates the wreck of Clint’s bike. That’s one thing done, and it eases Phil’s mind a little. He closes his eyes and dozes for a while longer, but finally he can’t ignore his full bladder anymore, and slides away from Clint, who makes another unhappy noise, this one louder and more coherent as he reaches after Phil. Phil sighs, and kisses Clint’s forehead, dodging another grab.

“I’ll be back,” he says, and makes his escape. By the time he gets back, after a detour to the kitchen to get Clint a glass of juice, his sub is sitting up and blinking. “Good morning,” Phil says, and sits on the edge of the bed, handing the glass to Clint. “Drink that, I’m sure your blood sugar is low.”

Clint downs half of it in one gulp. “Thanks,” he rasps, and then guzzles the rest. 

Phil smiles at him, a little worried. “Feeling better?”

“Uh, yeah.” He cringes.

Phil sighs and runs his hand over Clint’s cropped hair, gently gripping the back of his neck. “Hey. I’m not going to punish you. You know that.”

“I guess I do now, shit.”

“I am going to issue what I hope will be my only real ultimatum.” He hates the way Clint tenses under his hand, but he has to say this. “This has to stop. Not because of the expense or of any inconvenience to me, but because you could have killed yourself last night. You are not allowed to make me live with that. Losing you on the job would be bad enough.”

“Yes, sir,” Clint whispers, staring down at the blanket.

“Will you need help to not hurt yourself?”

“What, you mean like meds or a shrink? That shit never works. No, I-I’ll be good.” His voice is a tiny, broken thing, and he moves a little closer to Phil, who hugs him tightly.

“Yes, because you’re my good boy,” Phil says softly, and kisses Clint’s forehead. Clint shivers and whines, climbing into Phil’s lap and then whimpering pathetically when Phil just holds him, rubbing his back.

“Phil…”

“Yes, dearest?”

“I… will you keep me?”

“That will be legally evaluated when the contract runs out, but I will tell you here and now that I intend to keep you for as long as you want to be kept.”

Clint makes a high-pitched little noise, and holds on so hard Phil will have bruises later. He buries his face in Phil’s neck and a moment later Phil feels the telltale dampness as he starts to cry. Phil lets it go on for as long as it needs to, holding Clint and rocking him just a little. His thighs ache and his legs are asleep from the knees down by the time Clint stops, but it’s worth it. Clint is a mess, and Phil gets him some tissues and then walks him to the bathroom to wash his face.

“Thank you,” Clint croaks at last.

“You’re always welcome,” Phil says, kissing Clint’s cheek. “Now take a nice, relaxing, hot shower, and come down for breakfast when you’re done.”

“Yes, sir,” Clint murmurs, and turns his head to steal a soft and brief kiss on the mouth. Desire sweeps over Phil like a tidal wave, and he shudders and takes a careful step back. Clint doesn’t say anything, just locks eyes with him for an endless moment before wandering over to the shower to switch it on and wait for the water to heat up. Phil escapes to the kitchen, with a detour to his room to get dressed and to sniff the sheets like a massive creeper because they smell like Clint. That done, he gets started on the kind of enormous spread his father used to make on weekends when everyone had the time to enjoy it.

By the time Clint comes down to the kitchen, damp and clean and wrapped to the chin in his purple bathrobe, Phil has put out cinnamon toast, bacon, hash browns, and sliced oranges. “…Holy shit, boss.”

Phil stirs the scrambled eggs, pleased to see them nearly done. “Sometimes it is imperative to make a lot of breakfast.”

Clint snorts. “Are you just a really tall hobbit and never told anyone?” 

Phil chuckles. “It’s a distinct possibility.”

Clint settles down at the table with a lack of wary prowling that makes Phil feel like singing. He serves the eggs instead, putting the pan in the sink and joining Clint. They don’t say much over breakfast because there isn’t much to say. It’s good to just sit here and feel how calm Clint is now, tension Phil had stopped even noticing suddenly overpowering in its absence.

After breakfast the wreck arrives, and Phil pays the hauling charges and gets it situated in the garage. Clint does the dishes and then comes out with a hangdog look on his face. He jumps in surprise at Phil’s one-armed hug.

“Hey. I’m not mad at you. I had this brought here because I think it can be fixed.”

“You think anything can be fixed,” Clint says, snarking pretty well around the little catch in his voice.

“Most things can,” Phil says, and kisses his cheek again. Clint shivers and nods, and soon has created his own little encampment around the wreck. The bike is utterly mangled, but it’s not hopeless, and Phil gives Clint technical manuals and assistance when he can. He’s not surprised to see Clint become deeply invested in undoing the damage, and lets him guide the project entirely except for when he forgets to eat or sleep. When that happens Phil goes out and collects him. Clint puts up much less of a fuss than he would have even two weeks ago, and it warms Phil’s heart to see that progress as well as his work on the bike.


End file.
